I sit here alone on the eve of my first Mother's Day. Ho hum. Audrey caught a cold last week and lovingly passed it on to me. The combination of this virus and my fibromyalgia have caused sparks in the form of muscle pain, congestion, dizziness, and"balloon head", which is exactly what it sounds like. As if my head is filled with helium and is floating haphazardly somewhere above my body.
And Matt is gone. He, alas, is in charge of coordinating the prom at the high school where he works. Which means tonight is the night when dozens of girls will be cramming their tanning bed-baked half-starved bodies into dresses that I'd be ashamed to wear in front of my husband in the privacy of our bedroom. That magical night when boys who are virgins aspire to lose that embarrassing title. And a night, I hope, where everyone is careful and doesn't drink and drive. (Yes, I think about those things even more after having a baby).
As depressing as it sounds, I'm fine. I'm good, at least emotionally. I'm so thankful that I'll be honored this Mother's Day. And it's all because of my baby, my little angel, my reason for living. Of course, she looks nothing like the picture above, having been born in December. I'll write out my birth story later after reliving the experience with Matt ::shudder::, since many of the details are fuzzy (no, ma'am, I did not have a natural childbirth experience, no hypno-birthing here).
So here's to me! I may be going to bed alone tonight, but my little love bug will be snuggled into her co-sleeper right next to me. Happy Mother's Day to all!